


Trouble In Manhattan

by larislynn



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Reader-Insert, Soft Spot Conlon, Spot Conlon is Bad at Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:14:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26165473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larislynn/pseuds/larislynn
Summary: A trip to Brooklyn goes south when you have a run-in with the Delancey brothers. Meanwhile, Spot worries when you're nowhere to be found.*Can be read as either movie or musical Spot*
Relationships: Newsies & Reader, Spot Conlon/Reader, Spot Conlon/You
Kudos: 21





	Trouble In Manhattan

With a quick knock, you entered the boy’s lodging room that Jack used for an office. The others had left to get their papes already, but you held back because apparently you were needed for a special assignment. Jack looked up from the coins he was counting “Hey, just the newsie I wanted to see!”

“I know youse wanted to see me, Kelly. Otherwise Racetrack wouldn’t have told me so. It better be important, I don’t want to miss a day of selling for nothing.” 

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m getting there, jeez. I need you to take a message to Brooklyn for me. You’ll get paid fifty cents for it too. So it won’t be like you’re missing any sales.” 

Crossing your arms, you sent him a loaded glare. “Why me? You can send any other newsie. I’m not an errand girl, Jack.”

“I’m not sending ya just because you’re a girl. You’re the only Manhattan newsie that Spot Conlon will actually listen to. Other than me, of course.” He wasn’t wrong there. During the strike you had become fast friends with Spot, along with a few of the other Brooklyn newsies. After the strike had ended you kept in contact with them, even stopping by to visit once in a while. 

“Fine,” you sighed, taking the note and coins from him. “But don’t make a habit of this, Kelly."“Be careful while you’re over there. I know you trust Spot but it isn’t the best area. I don’t want you getting hurt.” 

Chuckling, you shook your head. “You know I wouldn’t go somewhere if I couldn’t handle myself.” 

Leaving the room, you pondered how true that statement actually was. Before joining the newsies you were a petty thief, taking what you could to survive. One day your pickpocketing didn’t go exactly as planned. You stole a couple quarters from one of the Delancey brothers, not knowing who they were at the time. They caught you, and were about to have you sent to the Refuge for _correction_. That was the word they used. As if a person’s means of survival was something to correct, rather than the system that caused it. It was then that Jack showed up, stopping them before they could reach their uncle. 

Ever since then you sold papes with the Manhattan newsies, and stayed away from crime, for the most part at least. Jack had become the brother you never had. He made sure you stayed out of trouble, but sometimes his over-protectiveness stood in your way, which annoyed you to no end.

Reaching the Brooklyn Bridge, you were snapped out of your thoughts. Some newsies stood nearby, calling out that morning’s headlines. You nodded to them as you walked past, they nodded back. Some older guys walked past and you gripped your messenger bag just a bit tighter. Once they passed by you released a breath. 

The morning sun beat down overhead, the humidity rising. Mist rose from the river, creating a thick haze that was difficult to see through. Once you made it over the bridge the visibility became a bit clearer. 

From there it was a short walk to the Brooklyn lodging house. Some newsies stood out front, talking and passing a cigarette. You smiled as you walked up to the door. “Hey Patch. Is Conlon in? I have a message for him from Kelly.” 

The boy nodded, “He should be upstairs. Finished selling a little while ago.”

“Thanks,” you replied. Walking inside, you blinked at the dim lighting. Once your eyesight properly adjusted you walked up the stairs, knocking at the door you knew to be Spot’s. 

His voice called through the door, “Who’s there?” 

“It’s me,” you answered. There wasn’t any need to properly announce yourself, he’d know the sound of your voice anywhere. 

“Come on in,” he said. Opening the door, he greeted you with a smile. “It’s been a while, how’ve ya been?” 

“Good as I can be,” you laughed. “Kelly has a message for ya. Something ‘bout profits I’m guessing.” He nodded as he took the note from you. 

Reading over the note he asked, “Youse Kelly’s messenger now?” 

You rolled your eyes, “No, I’m not. And anyone who says so’s gonna get soaked.”

The King of Brooklyn laughed at your attitude. “I’m not sayin’ nothing. All I mean is a pretty girl like you can make a lot more money sellin’ papes than delivering messages.” You tried not to dwell on his words. After all, he was just pointing out business tips, not going out of his way to compliment you. 

Meanwhile, Spot finished reading the letter. “Seems Jack saw some Brooklyn newsies selling over in Manhattan. I’ll let them know to stay on our turf.”

“I’ll tell Jack,” you answered. “I’d better get going, you know how Kelly worries.” 

“I can walk ya back,” Spot offered. It wasn’t just the gentlemanly thing to do, the truth was he worried for you too, though not for the same reasons Jack did. You had a bad habit of sassing people you should never sass. He knew one day you’d get in trouble for it and hoped you wouldn’t be alone when you did. 

Shaking your head, you refused his offer. “Really, I’m fine. I walked here myself and I can walk back. Besides, you wouldn’t want people thinking the famous King of Brooklyn had gone soft, would ya?”

He couldn’t argue with that. “Just stay safe,” he chuckled as he gave you a quick hug goodbye. 

“No promises,” you laughed as you walked out the door. He sighed as he slumped back into his chair. Spot may not have been the praying type but in that moment he prayed to whoever was listening that you’d make it back to Manhattan safely. 

It wasn’t until you crossed back over the bridge that you realized you hadn’t been paying attention to where you were walking. The only reason you realized this because a carriage driver almost ran you over. Jumping out of its way, you cussed under your breath. At least you were back on your turf. 

As you stepped back onto the sidewalk, you slammed into someone. “Hey watch it!” 

“Youse better watch yourself,” you spat back. Looking over at the person, you recognized it was none other than Oscar Delancey and his brother Morris. You were really in trouble now.

“She’s that little pickpocket, isn’t she?” 

“The one Kelly busted out,” his brother confirmed. “Heard you’re a newsie now, a real important one too. Even helped out in the strike. The strike that cost our uncle his job.” He cracked his knuckles. 

“Who, me? Nah, not really. I really didn’t have much to do with it,” you rambled nervously. “Anyways, nice seeing you boys, but I’d better get going. Jack’s going to be looking for me.”

“Well of course he will dear,” Morris leaned closer to you as you cringed at the pet name. “That’s what people do with missing persons, they look for them. Of course, most of the time they’re never found.” 

Jack was fuming. He sends you on one job and you’re gone all day. Part of him wondered if you were doing this out of spite, revenge for having to send the message for him. The other part of him wondered if you were in trouble. When the sun started to set he decided to find out for himself. At best, you’d scold him for being too protective. At worst, well, he didn’t want to think about it.

Leaving a note for the others, he set out for Brooklyn. By the time he reached the other lodging house it was dusk. Pushing open the door he stormed up the stairs. Some of the newsies tried to stop him, but he pushed past them, Reaching Spot’s room, he pounded on the door. 

“One minute,” Spot answered, opening the door. “No need to tear down the house, what’s going on?”

“Is she here? I sent her with a message this morning and she never came home.” Jack ran a hand through his hair nervously. 

“You mean she ain’t with you?” All the worry Spot felt that morning started to take over again. 

“Would I be here if she was?” 

“She left this morning, after giving me the letter. It was ‘bout noon then.’ Spot’s voice was almost a whisper. “I told her that I’d walk her home. She refused, If she’s hurt, if she’s…” he trailed off, trying to avoid saying the worst. 

Jack’s brow furrowed in concentration, “Do you have any idea where she might be?” 

“She seemed upset she couldn’t sell any papes, maybe she tried to get some?” It was a hopeful answer, one they both wished to be true. “We’d know if she was in the Refuge, I have guys who watch it for activity. Is there anyone who’d want to,” he took a breath, trying to hide his emotions, “who’d want to hurt her?”

“She never hesitates to talk back to anyone but,” Jack shook his head. “No, that was too long ago, they wouldn’t still be upset, would they?” 

Spot looked at him in confusion, “Who?”

“The Delanceys.”

Sitting in a small alley, you coughed. You tried to ignore the taste of blood in your throat. The night was freezing and you shivered. Your back ached from sitting against the brick wall for so long. The Delancey brothers had left you there in a state of semi-unconsciousness, saying something about “coming back to collect ya in the morning.” You tried to stand, but it hurt too much. So much for most guys not wanting to hit a girl. 

You wondered just how long you had been there for. Surely Jack was looking for you by now. Maybe Spot was with him too. Something in your memory stirred and you remembered Spot offering to walk you home that morning. If only you had taken him up on his offer, then you might not be in this situation. 

On the brightside this alley wasn’t too well-hidden. While the Delancey’s were brutes there wasn’t a lot going on in the brains department. Spot had newsies everywhere, surely someone would find you. As you started to drift off again you couldn’t help but wonder if Spot would be worried about you. 

The short answer: He was. It had been a solid hour of searching before they had any leads. But near the bridge they found one of the ribbons you had in your hair that morning. At first he tried not to let the worry show, but as time dragged on it became more obvious. 

Walking down a side street something caught his eye. A newsboy cap sat deserted near an alley, the same one you had been wearing that morning. After starting down the narrow alleyway he broke into a sprint when he saw you. He was about to call out to Jack when his breath caught in his throat. Bruises peppered your arms, and he was sure there were more elsewhere. Blood was matted near your hairline and your eyes were closed, as if you were fast asleep.

His heart hammered in his chest as he shook you gently. ”C’mon, youse gotta wake up.” No response. For the first time that night it wasn’t worry he felt, it was fear. It was like the mask was slipping off, and all his emotions came pouring out. “This can’t be it, you’ll be fine. Youse gotta be fine.”   
  
Your eyes fluttered open and you tried to remember where you were. “Spot? You looked for me. I wasn’t sure-” whatever you were about to say was drowned out by a fit of coughing. 

“Of course I did,” he answered softly. “Jack’s around here somewhere. We’ll get you back to the lodging house soon. Did the Delanceys do this?” 

All you could manage was a weak nod in response. “They could come back any moment. Said they’d ‘collect the body in the morning’.”

Spot’s hand curled into a fist. “I hope they come back, I’d have the opportunity to give them a taste of their own medicine.” As much as he wanted to soak them he knew you couldn’t wait around for them. Based on the way you were coughing tme was the one thing you didn’t have. A shadow entered the alley and you glanced over. “Kelly, she’s here. We don’t have much time.” 

It was all you could do to not fall asleep again. Thankfully the lodging house was only about a block away. Jack helped carry you while Spot stayed on the lookout for the Delanceys, slingshot at the ready. 

On the way back you weakly recounted the events of the day to them. You weren’t quite sure how long you had been in the alleyway for, but it was most of the afternoon. Thankfully most of the damage was just bruises, but sitting in the cold for so long weakened you. By the time you were back at the lodging you had finished the rest of your story.

Jack led you back to your small room where you promptly fell asleep. Spot stood in the doorway, ready to leave. “Do ya think soaking the Delanceys will fix anything?” 

Spot nodded, “It’ll fix my urge to soak ‘em. They can’t get away with this.”

Jack shook his head. “They’re from Manhattan, this is my job. Besides,” he nodded towards you, “you should stay here. In case she wakes up while I’m gone. I know she’d feel safe knowing youse is here.”

Spot sat on a nearby chair, not trusting himself to speak. It was like you had told him earlier, he didn’t need anyone thinking that the King of Brooklyn had gone soft. But maybe he had. Would he worry this much about just anyone? He already knew that his feelings for you ran deeper than friendship, and that’s what scared him the most. 

Without even really thinking about it he got up and grabbed a clean cloth from a nearby wash basin. He wiped the dried blood off your forehead, gently so as not to wake you. You looked so peaceful and he didn’t want to ruin it. He placed a fresh glass of water on your bedside table, in case you started coughing again.

Jack had been gone for about an hour when you finally stirred again. Spot looked over at you and all the anger he had towards the Delanceys surged forward again. How dare they do this? Your voice was muffled by your pillow, but he could make out what you asked. “Spot? S’that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he smiled, glad to know you were awake. “How’re you feeling? Youse been out ‘bout an hour.” 

Honestly you weren’t quite sure how you felt. “I’m a bit better, but it still hurts.”

“I swear,” he mumbled, “the next time I see the Delanceys…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I shoulda walked ya home. None of this woulda happened.”

“This ain’t your fault. It was my decision to walk home by myself.” You turned to look at him, trying to let him know you didn’t blame him.

He looked down, “I didn’t insist because I didn’t want people thinkin’ I’d gone soft. If only I worried as much as I should’ve.” 

You sat up, ignoring the shooting pain in your back. “You worried about me?”

“Of course I did,” he whispered, not meeting your eyes. “I’m not as emotionless as everyone thinks. But if I worried more about what was _really_ important maybe I coulda done somethin’. I can’t lose you.” It wasn’t until the words left his mouth that he fully realized what he said. 

You reached out to him, brushing your hand against his. “Spot, what are you saying?”

He sighed and shook his head, “It’s nothing to worry yourself about. You need to rest, just forget I said anything.”

There’s a reckless sort of confidence that comes with a near-death experience. Part of that recklessness includes arguing with the King of Brooklyn. “What if I don’t want to forget it?”

“Now isn’t the time to talk about it. Like I said, you need your rest.”

This wasn’t something you were about to let drop. “If now isn’t the time then when is? I almost _died_ , Spot. There’s no better time than now.” There it was, the word everyone had been dancing around. 

“You think I don’t know that? I was the one that found ya in that alley. When you didn’t open your eyes I thought you were _gone_ and there was nothing I could do about it!” His voice wavered slightly and you felt your heart break. “But talking about what almost happened won’t get us anywhere. I knows what Kelly said but I still wanna go out and soak the Delanceys for what they done.”

“Spot, I’ll be fine,” you insisted. Slowly you moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “Besides, I can probably walk again now.”

You made a move to get up but he sat down next to you, “Don’t even think about it sweetheart. Youse need rest, and walkin’ ain’t restin’.” 

“Fine,” you conceded. A mischievous smirk spread across your face. “But only if you tell me what you were talking about earlier.”

He chuckled wrly, “You ain’t gonna make this easy for me, are ya?”

“Nope,” you grinned, trying to stand up again. 

Spot grabbed your wrist gently, forcing you to sit back down. ‘“Alright,” he sighed, not meeting your gaze. For a moment he wondered if he could get away with telling a half truth. No, this might be his only chance to come clean. He might as well take it.

“The truth is I care about you, alot. But I never said nothing ‘cause I didn’t want anyone to know I had a weakness, that you was my weakness. I thought I was protecting you by keepin’ my distance. Then after today…” he trailed off, looking over at you. “I just can’t lose you.”

Your heart hammered in your chest as you realized what he was saying. He felt the same way about you. He misinterpreted your shocked silence as a subtle rejection. “I’m sorry if this messed things up between us,” he began, standing up. “Maybe I should ’ave said nothin’.” Now it was your turn to make him sit back down. You reached out and grabbed his hand.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” you whispered. He sat next to you, closer this time. “I care about you too, Spot. I woulda said s-”

Your confession was cut off by his lips crashing against yours. For a split-second you sat in shock before kissing him back. Your hand cupped his cheek gently as he pulled you closer. When you finally pulled away to breathe someone cleared their throat from the doorway.

“Well, I’m glad to see something good came out of all this,” Jack said. 

“Damn Kelly, way to ruin a moment,” you laughed, a little bit breathlessly. 

“I can come back later if you want,” he began, but was cut off by a pillow hitting him in the face. “I guess that’s my answer.” He backed out of the room closing the door behind him. 

Spot smirked, leaning in to kiss you again. “Now, where were we?”

**Author's Note:**

> I recently watched Newsies (several times- whoops) and this fic idea came to me, and I just had to write it! I didn’t expect it be this long but I’m not complaining. As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! Love you all! <3


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